Rika stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her palms were sweaty, her voice shaky.

"This is it," she whispered, tightening the scarf around her neck. "I’m really doing this."

Vini fluttered around her like a stylist, adjusting her collar and sprinkling invisible sparkles over her head.

"First interviews in foreign countries only happen, like, once in a blue moon. You look adorable. Professional. Slightly terrified. Perfect combo."

Rika smiled nervously and opened her laptop.

The video call connected.

A kind woman with an Austrian accent greeted her.

"Hallo, Rika Arisawa! We’ve seen your portfolio and… we’re quite impressed."

Rika took a breath, letting her heart speak.

"Art has been my way to breathe since I was a child. It’s not just a job for me—it’s home. I want to bring stories to life through visuals. I want to help people feel seen."

They smiled.

Forty minutes later, the call ended.

Vini hovered, breathless.

"You did it. YOU DID IT!"

Rika collapsed on her bed, half-laughing, half-crying.

"I don’t know if I got it," she said.

"Rika, you showed them your soul. That’s more powerful than any degree."

A week later, the email came.

"We are pleased to offer you the position."

She screamed.

Her heart exploded with joy.

She danced around her room, tears blurring the screen as she read the offer again and again.

She got the job.

She was moving to Vienna.

But joy was quickly followed by something else.

Fear.

She sat across from her parents at dinner that night, her fingers nervously twisting the corner of the tablecloth.

"Mama… Papa…" she started softly.

They looked at her, curious.

"I got a job. In Austria. At an art museum."

Silence.

Then—confusion.

"But couldn’t you find a job like this here too?" her father asked.

"And it’s so far," her mother added. "You don’t even know anyone there!"

Rika swallowed hard.

"I know it’s scary. But I need to do this—for me."

Her father frowned.

"We wanted you to have stability. This art thing… is it even secure?"

Rika looked down, heart heavy.

But before she could speak again, Vini whispered into her ear:

"Tell them the truth."

Rika looked up, eyes shining with tears.

"I’ve spent years pretending to be okay. Pretending this life was enough. But I’ve felt so empty. So lost."

She took a breath.

"This… job, this dream… it’s the first time in my life I’ve felt something real. Please… trust me."

Her mother looked away, wiping her cheek.

Her father said nothing—but his gaze softened.

"If this is what your heart wants," he finally said, "then… go chase it."

The next few weeks passed in a whirlwind.

She packed her things.

Cancelled her lease.

Sold her scooter.

Bought her very first passport.

Each goodbye hurt.

But the weight on her chest had begun to lift.

The day before her flight, she stood at the airport with her parents. They hugged her tighter than ever before.

Her mom whispered, "Come back stronger."

Her dad nodded, proud.

"I will," she promised.

On the plane, as clouds swallowed the sky, Rika looked out the window.

Vini floated beside her, hugging a tiny suitcase.

"So… we’re really doing this, huh?"

Rika grinned.

"We are."

She landed in Vienna on a rainy afternoon.

The air felt different. Softer. Full of possibility.

As she stepped onto the cobblestone street, bags in hand and heart wide open, she whispered:

"Let’s begin again."